


give me love and see me bleed

by agentlithium



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character(s), bisexual confusion, general confusion, homicidal confusion, lotsa yellin bc they're both weenies who can't communicate, ooc ed (hes not being a piece of shit for once), oswald's a bitter bitch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentlithium/pseuds/agentlithium
Summary: oswald returns home from the founders' dinner and ed decides to check on him later that evening. it doesn't go well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I tried my hand at nygmobblepot. I've seen a few fics just like this one already but hey it's a cool idea so here's how I think this situation would play out.

The sound of his fist hitting the wall echoed throughout the manor, but the two in the room right below him didn’t seem to hear it. He could only imagine what they were up to. He didn’t want to imagine it. He would rather slam his head into his desk until he saw stars than think about Ed,  _ his _ Ed, and that woman. Not even in the moments when he was staring down the barrel of Jervis Tetch’s gun was he this stomach sick. He almost died, and Ed didn’t have a single thing to say. And her! Edward Nygma is a serial killer! Four lives were taken by his hand, and she has not a single problem with continuing to kiss him. What kind of idiot would believe they had fallen in love within less than a day of meeting this object of interest? An idiot like Ed, of course. She was a stranger. A complete stranger with a familiar face. An obsessive, awkward, fact-spitting moron without an ounce of common sense.

Oh, no! She and Ed are exactly the same!

Oswald sunk to the floor, his bad leg flaring up quite violently at the sudden change in position, causing him to fall the remainder of the way down. There, once he hit the ground with a  _ thump _ , he sat and wept. His breathing constricted as he heard them laughing together. He hadn’t even noticed his bloodied knuckles or the small crack in the wall that they left there. Gentle music seeped into his chamber from where he left the lovely couple and allowed him to wail as loud as he pleased. The cork was forced out of the bottle in which he kept every last emotion. He was free to expel the awful weight that was chained to his weak and withering heart. Unfortunately, it was only to make room for a heavier agony that would tear his heart from his very chest. He was no stranger to crying alone, but there was something torturous about hearing laughter from not too far away while he sobbed until his throat was raw. Saline trails ran black down his cheeks, smudging his already strategically smudged eyeliner until he looked like he came out on the losing end of a fistfight. His voice lost magnitude over time and soon, he was silent, save for the occasional hiccup.

Being alone with his thoughts was rarely this scary. Usually, he would sit by himself, planning future moves with a glass of wine as his companion. Now, sitting on the floor of his pitch black bedroom without a crutch or something or someone to hold, he was terrified. He had let so much go: his mother, his father, his every relationship, his courage. Running for mayor of Gotham City was a mistake. Such authority would empower a strong man and cripple a weak man and Oswald was weak. He was a coward. A pathetic, lonely shell of an emotionally unstable boy who hungered for power he couldn’t possibly handle _. Look at yourself. Crying on the floor over a nobody that you made into a somebody. What’s wrong with you? _

Good question.

It was quiet downstairs by the time he decided to get ready to cry in bed instead. His body throbbed with pain. He must’ve been sitting there for over an hour. He was exhausted. Thankfully, he would be taken by sleep quickly and he wouldn’t have to stare at the empty place in his king-sized bed for at least another few hours. Wonderful. He sniffled sharply, his hands working at his tie and then the buttons of his jacket, his waistcoat, and his collar. A gasp was startled from him at an abrupt series of knocks raining down upon his door. The door was opened before he could really protest.

“Everything alright in here? I heard something a little while ago,” said Ed, waltzing in and turning on a lamp with a cheery smile. Oswald was ready to choke himself out.

“I haven’t made a sound for the last hour at least,” he muttered, turning away from Ed.

“Really? My, time sure flies when you’re having fun.” Oswald said nothing. He held onto his bedpost for support so he could remove his socks.

“Oh dear, what happened?” Ed walked closer. Oswald could smell the scent of sweet perfume on his jacket.

“Hm?”

“Your hand,” Ed noticed the crack in the wall. Oswald spoke to prevent him from questioning its relation to his wounds.

“Oh, nothing.” Ed shook his head and removed a handkerchief from his pocket. He took Oswald’s hand in his own and dabbed gently at his knuckles. His concerned expression quickly vanished as memories of his dinner date returned to him.

“Oswald, you couldn’t believe how scared I was when she brought up Kristen.”  _ There he fucking goes. _ “I thought I lost her forever, but she still loves me, even after that— what’s wrong?” Ed paused once he saw the dark mascara tears upon Oswald’s freckled cheeks.

“It’s nothing,” Oswald grumbled again, rubbing his face.

“Tell me, Oswald.”

“No, I told you it’s nothing.”

“You’ve been crying.”

“It doesn’t matter. As I said I’m very tired—“

“Did something happen tonight?” He wanted to spit in Ed’s confused visage.

“No, I mean some freak tried did try to kill me at the Founders' Dinner tonight, but oh, how could I possibly interrupt your date with my own attempted murder.” It was a low blow. Ed had no way of knowing about Oswald’s brush with death, but he didn’t care.

“Someone tried to kill you?” Ed was evidently worried, but he didn’t pick up on what Oswald was obviously hinting at— what was really bothering him.

“It’s no big deal, I’m alive, aren’t I?” Oswald waved his hand dismissively, brushing off what is obviously a very big deal. Ed hesitated.

“So… is that all you’re upset about?”

Oswald nearly exploded at the question.  _ He’s not serious. _ His lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to stop himself from screeching at Ed.

“For such an intelligent man, you are an absolute idiot, Edward,” Oswald chuckled. It was strangled and fake. His vision was clouding over again. Ed’s brow furrowed at the sudden jab.

“What? Did I do something that I’m unaware of?” he grew more defensive. Oswald’s teeth dug into his bottom lip to prevent it from quivering.

“Nothing at all. You didn’t do anything. You didn’t do a damn thing. You had a nice evening with a girl— no, a  _ stranger _ you claim to love. I assume she couldn’t stay. Too bad. You would’ve had such a lovely evening forgetting about me,” Oswald’s bitter laughter faded into a snarl. He was so irrationally angry that he even surprised himself with how quickly he deteriorated into accusations and insults.

“Is this about Isabella? Oswald, what is happening? What’s your problem?” Ed sounded upset. He couldn’t conjure up a single reason why Oswald would have a problem with someone else coming into Ed’s focus. With nothing else to say, Oswald went with the honest truth.

“You wanna know what my ‘problem’ is? I hate her. I cannot fucking stand her. Seeing you with her makes me want to claw my eyes out. That’s my problem.” Ed’s shock quickly melted into visible anger.

“Oswald, I… I am happy with her and as my friend, I thought you would be happy for me! No one has ever loved me like she does. She accepts me for who I am. Why do you hate her?”

Oswald wanted to scream. His fingers grasped and tugged at his hair.

“Because you can’t love her!” He was shrieking now, verging on hysterical. “You don’t know her at all! She walked into your life yesterday and all of a sudden she’s all you can think about! Just because she looks like a girl you stalked for years then murdered the second you got your hands on her! She should’ve been nothing but a pretty face you see once in passing and never again. God damn it, why did you have to meet her? Why do you love her and—  _ and not me? _ ” Oswald barked hoarsely. 

“Because she’s— what?”

Ed’s interjection faded midword. 

“Why don’t you love me?” The second time he said it was equally as jarring to Ed as it was the first time. Skilled in wit, riddles, and wordplay, Ed couldn’t possibly form a response to this and for that, Oswald was grateful.

“I know why, anyway. She’s beautiful, smart, kind, and perfect. How can I compare to the girl of your dreams? I’m not even close to being good enough. Too damaged and broken and ugly,” he croaked. Though he believed he had cried until he could cry no more, he was again dissolving into tears. Ed’s mouth hung open without even a syllable of an answer to offer. Oswald raised his head to face him when he was calm enough, wet eyes shimmering in the dim light. 

“I’m in love with you, Edward. You’re the only person who truly cares about me, the only person I trust. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine. I was going to tell you the night you met her. I waited until someone stole you away from me and I will ever regret my cowardice. I hate her because I’m selfish. I want to be the only one you love when I’m not even a passing thought in your head. I don’t know why I hoped for any different. God,” he trailed off before he would be blubbering intelligibly. He rammed the base of his palm into his forehead once, twice, three times, cursing his own stupidity. Ed finally took his first course of action and grabbed Oswald’s slender wrist to stop him from causing any damage.

“Oswald,” he breathed out. Still speechless and now faced with Oswald struggling to free himself from the grip on his arm, he wrapped his arms around Oswald to effectively contain him. He was shaking like a leaf and sobbing like Ed had never seen. Oswald had shown him certain vulnerabilities of his, crying in Ed’s presence over the death of his mother and such. Never had he lamented so shamelessly. He didn’t care at this point. He fought Ed’s hold at first but was very quick to give up. His blunt fingernails clawed at Ed’s suit and tears soaked into his shirt. He hid his disgrace in Ed’s chest. Large hands splayed over his back, maintaining the tight embrace. Oswald found himself growing limp as his resilience abandoned him. He was still upset, but more than anything, he was tired. His chest heaved with uneven breathing and he desperately tried to calm himself down. He felt himself being pulled toward his bed. While he was absolutely no help, allowing his feet to stumble and drag along the ground, he was soon placed on the soft mattress. Ed didn’t once let go of him, only loosening his grasp for a moment to pull Oswald back to him more comfortably. In any other situation, Oswald would be ecstatic to be so close to Ed, but he barely noticed. The gravity of his confession had begun to sink in.

“I’m sorry,” Oswald spoke, voice trembling. “I-I didn’t mean any of—“

“It’s okay, Oswald, I understand. You’re upset.” Ed kept his tone flat, so Oswald couldn’t decipher the emotions he was experiencing. He couldn’t bear to look at Ed right now.

“No, I shouldn’t have—“

Ed hushed him. Oswald supposed he was just trying to process everything, so he said nothing more, only sniffling periodically. His body was stiff with anxiety, but Ed’s gentle touch running up and down his arm allowed him to unwind, if only slightly. At least Ed wasn’t pushing him away in disgust. That was surely a good sign.

They sat there together even when Oswald had long since settled. The tension in the room was slowly melting away.

“It’s late. I should get ready for bed,” Oswald blurted out. Something to break the silence. At first, he didn’t move to get up and Ed didn’t let go of him. They both wanted to remain right where they were, but nevertheless, Oswald forced himself out of Ed’s grasp and back on his feet. He went over to his dresser to grab a pair of pajamas.

“Oswald,” Ed began, though he didn’t really know where to go after.

“Please, don’t. Just forget about this.” Ed ignored his interruption. He knew it was better to talk about this. After all, how could he possibly forget what just happened?

“You know you’re my best friend, right? Nothing is going to change that. I am… a little taken aback, I must admit. I never really saw this coming, but—“

“Ed,  _ please _ .” Oswald was close to begging.

“I’ve always felt strongly for you. Maybe not in a… romantic sense— well, honestly, I’m not even sure of that.”

Something in Oswald’s stomach flipped. What was he implying?

“A-All of that aside, I’m in a relationship. That’s something you have to respect.” Ed asserted. “I may have been somewhat inattentive to you, now that I am with Isabella. So much so that I didn’t notice what you were feeling. I’m not unfamiliar with being ignored by an object of, uh, affection.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“I’m not trying to take you away from her,” said Oswald, though he was absolutely trying to steal Ed away from that woman. “I’d rather have you as a friend than not have you at all. You don’t owe me your love or attention.”

For Oswald, that was hard to say. Usually, lying wasn’t so difficult for him. He desperately wanted to be Ed’s one and only and he would be damned if he let some bitch take his place, but he also wanted Ed to be happy above all else.

“Both of you are incredibly important to me. I want to treat you equally and divide my time between you two equally. Isabella’s my girlfriend, but you have done so much for me. You know me better than anyone and I would truly be lost without you.”

_ Wow, thanks, Edward. I’m glad that getting you out of Arkham, giving you a high ranking job, making you into the man you are today, and giving you nothing but love and praise puts me on the same level as that bookish moron you met a few days ago. _

“No, you love her. Don’t let me intrude,” Oswald couldn’t conceal his resentment toward playing second fiddle to Isabella. He hoped he could manipulate Ed with a bit of reverse psychology, but his Ed was far too smart for that, as he knew.

“Anyway, I had a very stressful evening, so if you wouldn’t mind letting me get ready for bed. Again, I’m so sorry about all of this, Ed. I have no right to say anything about your love life. Not everything revolves around my own needs and wants.”

“Oh, right, yes,” Ed got up. He then walked over to Oswald and pulled him into a quick hug. They relaxed for only a moment, Ed impulsively placing a light kiss to Oswald’s hair before stepping back. He could sense Oswald was still rather distressed and began to feel somewhat guilty himself.

“I, um, I hope this won’t change anything between us,” Oswald looked down at his feet timidly. He felt Ed’s warm hand fall upon his cheek.

“It won’t. I promise. No matter what, I’ll always care about you, Oswald,” Ed gave him a small, encouraging smile. “I’ll see you at breakfast?”

“Y-Yeah, yes. Goodnight, Ed,” Oswald quirked the corner of his lip feebly in return. He watched Ed leave his room and close the door behind him. Once he was sure Ed was gone, his chest again grew tight. Hot, stifling shame washed over him. He wanted to take everything back. He was positive he just ruined the most important relationship currently in his life, but there was nothing he could do now besides hope and pray Ed wouldn’t leave him. With tears pricking his eyes again, he drew a shuddering breath and resumed undressing.

Ed was pacing about his quarters, ruminating on all that had happened.

_ He loves me. Oswald loves me. _

Familiar, discomfiting confusion bubbled inside him. He loved Isabella, he was certain of that, and he supposed he loved Oswald too. Of course, he did. They were best friends, closer than close. They shared a love of sorts. One that comes with knowing someone deeply and personally. Then again, he didn’t know Oswald had feelings for him, so maybe there are things they don’t know about each other. But that love was different from his and Isabella’s.

Or was it, really?

He recalled his curious infatuation upon his first few meetings with Oswald. His heart would jump into his throat when they were together, similar to when he was around Kristen before her unfortunate end. He was so enthralled with Oswald, so grateful for their eventual friendship. The complexity of his dearest companion never failed to astound him. He could be so strong, so violent and vicious. Oswald was full of boundless rage and sorrow. His emotions motivated him and occasionally overtook him. His volatile temper was a dramatic contrast to his hidden vulnerabilities. Ed just wanted to take him apart and find out what makes him tick. He also admittedly had a very aesthetic appreciation for Oswald’s distinct bone structure, his porcelain skin, his freckles, his scars, his eyes. He looked nothing like Kristen or Isabella, but Ed was still so drawn to him. He could spend hours just studying Oswald’s unique physicality.

He never really thought much of any of this. He never stopped to consider why he thought of these things, or why he felt this way about Oswald. Perhaps he should have.

And what would’ve happened if Ed hadn’t met Isabella and instead had dinner with Oswald? How would he react to Oswald’s confession then? A part of him thought he might’ve even given him a chance, but what would happen after that? He was surprised to feel a mild ache deep down for what could have been. What they could’ve been. He couldn’t picture him and Oswald having a happily ever after, not like how he imagined him and Isabella. They wouldn’t have a peaceful life in the suburbs or 2.5 kids, but they would have power. Power and  _ passion  _ and so, so much more.

If only Oswald has said something. If only Ed had opened his eyes.

If only, if only, if only.

Both men slept restlessly that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two idiots try to navigate the complexities of relationships and open communication.

Oswald awoke to a sharp rapping on his door. Being torn from his slumber, as fitful as it had been, was jarring and unpleasant. _ It can’t possibly be morning already. _ He could just barely make out someone saying something about breakfast being ready before they walked off down the hall. He groaned, too groggy to even force his eyes open. They were sealed shut with rheum. The peaceful oblivion of unconsciousness which allowed him to forget what transpired last night left him and reality hit him like a punch in the gut. He felt a wave of nausea and dread so powerful it made him want to vomit. He so desperately wanted to turn over and go back to sleep, but he was well aware he couldn’t afford such a luxury. A busy day lay ahead of him. His stiff body protested as he sat up, wiping the crust from his eyes. He threw his sheets back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Letting out another grunt, he stretched until his spine emitted a satisfying pop. The room was still fairly dark, thanks to a thick curtain pulled over the large window. Oswald fumbled blindly for his cane, eventually finding purchase. He stood shakily and struggled to cross the room to get his robe from the stand on which it hung. Once he grabbed it and wriggled into it, he huffed a heavy sigh and shuffled out of his chamber.

Ed was already dressed and waiting in the dining room. He nursed a cup of coffee while he looked over that day’s schedule. The distinct sound of Oswald slowly moving down the stairs immediately made him tense up. He promised things wouldn’t be awkward, but that was far easier said than done after Oswald poured his heart out and revealed his true feelings to Ed. He couldn’t really blame Oswald for anything. This was all frightfully similar to when Ed himself was pursuing Ms. Kringle. Her blunt rejections hurt, so it would be unfair to behave the same toward his close friend when he’s experienced the like from his unrequited love. Oswald was clearly much more emotionally fragile than him, though. His stomach still sat heavy in his abdomen at the memory of last night. He didn’t want to upset Oswald again by acting differently around him. Ed took a breath to calm down just as Oswald entered the room.

“Good morning, Oswald,” Ed smiled tightly. Oswald didn’t meet his gaze, too ashamed. Instead, he chose to look at the plate of toast and fruit set out for him on the table. Placed just beside it was a butter dish, a bottle of honey, various jams, and a jar of peanut butter.

“Good morning,” he said as he sat down. “How did you sleep?”

“Oh, good.” 

Ed really didn’t sleep well at all. He was kept up all night by his bothersome thoughts.

“What’s do I have planned for today?” Oswald began coating his toast with butter and honey.

“Uh, you have a meeting with Mr. Vitolo about that piece of property he’d like to purchase, a meeting with Mr. Rossi in regards to Mr. Vitolo’s request— I assume he’s not pleased that his sworn enemy is looking to encroach on his territory. And some news reporter wants to interview you about the, um, the Founders’ Dinner.” Oswald scoffed. He was in no mood to deal with the nosiness of the press.

“Tell the reporters I’m still recovering from this traumatic event. Hopefully, that’ll keep those leeches off my back. When am I meeting with Vitolo?” he mumbled through a mouthful of bread.

“You’re having lunch with him at 12:30. It’s just after 10:30 now,” said Ed, checking his watch to be sure.

“Right, thank you,” Oswald actually looked at him this time. Ed turned away quickly. Too quickly. Neither of them knew how to carry themselves around the other. It was like they were strangers. Ed cleared his throat.

“I have plans with Isabella this evening. I will have my phone with me, so I won’t be unreachable if you need to contact me. I thought I should let you know,” he stated, lacking any confidence. 

“Alright,” Oswald tried not to appear at all displeased with this. He picked away silently at the food on his plate for a moment, but he had lost his appetite. He pushed his chair back and stood up.

“I suppose I should get ready then.” With that, he limped off to his room. Ed took off his glasses and rubbed his face. He knew he already screwed things up. He always screwed everything up.

Oswald was lining his eyes in the mirror. He found it hard to breathe or swallow around the thick lump in his throat. He refused to cry again, focusing on keeping his hand steady. He was overwhelmingly embarrassed, especially with how distant Ed was this morning. Ed  _ promised _ , he promised nothing would change. Oswald swiped on a few light coats of mascara. How could he honestly expect everything to go back to any semblance of normal after his absolutely unforgivable outburst? Was he really going to lose Ed as a friend too? How would he go on without Ed by his side? Well, the answer to that is quite simple: he wouldn’t. Without Ed, he would be a miserable wreck.

When Ed came shyly knocking, Oswald had just finished styling his hair and was already half-dressed.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Um, yeah, sure,” answered Oswald, audibly wary. He pulled his undershirt on over his head and tucked it into his slacks before Ed entered the room cautiously.

“Do you need my help with anything?”

Ed usually aided Oswald in choosing what to wear for the day. It was nice to have an outside opinion deciding what colours matched and what vest paired well with what jacket. Oswald assumed Ed wouldn’t want anything to do with him this morning, so he was eager to accept.

“Oh, if you don’t mind,” he quelled his enthusiasm slightly.

“Not at all.”

Oswald had picked out a striped charcoal suit with a black shirt and vest. Ed chose the grey and silver tie over the red and silver one. Monochrome suited Oswald well, but then again, most shades suited Oswald. They weren’t as chatty as usual, but there was no real discomfort in their casual conversation. Though still a little apprehensive, both of their respective anxieties were soothed in a way. Ed even tied Oswald’s tie for him. For a moment, he lingered there, his hand resting on the silky material. A light blush dusted Oswald’s cheeks, darkening the longer Ed surveyed him over. Ed withdrew once he registered what he was doing.

“You look quite dashing. I have no doubt you will thoroughly impress,” he stumbled through the compliment clumsily. Oswald gave a subdued, but genuine smile.

“Thank you, Edward.”

“My pleasure,” Ed nodded. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Oswald said, after a moment. Ed was about to turn and promptly leave when Oswald mustered up the courage to pose a question.

“Are you sure everything is okay?”

“What? Oh, yes, of course.”

“Really? You don’t seem like yourself.” Oswald obviously wasn’t asking out of concern for Ed. He wanted to know if Ed was feeling uneasy because of him.

“Everything is fine,” Ed assured Oswald and himself. “I apologize if I caused you any stress. I’m a bit preoccupied, honestly, but you don’t have to worry.”

“Well, you can understand why I would worry,” Oswald knitted his brow.

“Yes, I know. This has nothing to do with you, I promise,” Ed guaranteed with complete insincerity. In truth, his problem had everything to do with Oswald.

“Is it something you want to talk about?”

“No,” Ed quickly realized he sounded much more curt than he intended, so he added: “not right now, I mean. It’s a personal problem. I fear I have to navigate through this myself.”

Oswald was still visibly unhappy. This answer proved to be dissatisfying.

“I— Ed, I still feel absolutely awful about all the things I said to you last night.”

“Oswald, I told you it was fine.”

“But it’s not. I know it’s not. And you’re absolutely right to be cross with me. Just— again, I must say I’m sorry.” Ed sighed.

“I’m not mad at you. You didn’t mean what you said.”

“No, of course not. You know I hold you in the highest regard. I was just tired and angry.”

“Were you really going to tell me the night I met Isabella? Is that why you asked me to dinner?” Ed let this slip without any consideration. Oswald stopped to formulate a reply. He had no reason to lie now, though he wished he did.

“Yes, well, I probably would’ve backed out again. I was trying to tell you all day if I’m being honest, but I just couldn’t.”

Hindsight truly is 20/20. Ed recalled Oswald’s multiple near-confessions from that day and he wonders how he didn’t figure it out then. Perhaps he never even considered Oswald as a potential romantic partner. He had no time for love and never spoke of relationships. He never showed any real interest in anyone— well, not in any women, anyway. With all of this new information, Ed had no idea why Oswald had to spell it out for him. He was a genius, sure, but he was dreadful at reading people’s emotions. In that regard, he was no better than the simplest of fools.

“I understand that. It’s frightening, telling someone you… like them.”

Christ, what was he, 11? Oswald  _ loved  _ him. Why couldn’t he just say it?

“Ed, I’d rather not talk about this any further.”

“I think we should. We’re much more level-headed now than we were last night and communication is vital in any relationship.”

“Please, Ed,” Oswald gave an irritated huff. This was the last thing he wanted to discuss this morning. Or ever. “I have to meet Vitolo soon. I suppose I’ll see you when you get home. Tomorrow, most likely.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Aren’t you going out with Isabelle tonight?” Ed picked up on how Oswald mispronounced her name almost intentionally, how he spat it out like it was poison on his tongue.

“It’s Isabell- _ a _ ,” he calmly corrected, “and oh, yes, right. I’ll try to be home earlier.”

“Don’t bother. I told you, I don’t want to intrude on your relationship,” Oswald called as he exited. Ed noticed a scowl form on Oswald’s face right before he was out of view. He stayed there alone for a while after that. Oswald was his friend, but he could be so difficult. Ed guessed it would take a few days for Oswald to stop beating himself up over this and open up to him. But then again, Ed wasn’t exactly baring all to Oswald. Making Oswald talk about his feelings wouldn’t be right if Ed was hiding his own.

Downstairs, Oswald called for his driver, Gabe, even though he had plenty of time before he had to go. There was no harm in being punctual. He was quite flustered after his conversation with Ed and wanted to get out of this house as soon as possible. Communication may be important, but he’d rather die than humiliate himself again like he did the previous evening. He’d reveal his deepest, most undignified emotions in hell. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to dining with the brutish Mr. Ronnie Vitolo— a greasy older man with a loud mouth— but he was excited to find out how much he could drink before their luncheon was over. His alcoholism was becoming something of a problem, not that he would ever admit to it. When one is dealing with what he deals with on a daily basis, it’s no wonder why he drinks.

By the time Ed descended the staircase, Oswald was gone. He had hoped to catch him on his way out, but he again found himself on his own in the grand, empty manor. He didn’t know what he would’ve said if he had managed to intercept Oswald. There was so much he wanted to say, so much on his mind. So much he’d never dare speak. He elected to distract himself with work. Ed strode over to his desk and sat down. He had completed all that week’s paperwork, but he could surely find something else to do. He had to get his mind off of Oswald by any means necessary. It didn’t take long until he nearly smacked himself for being so stupid.  _ Duh, your girlfriend! Think of Isabella!  _  Of course. Ed tried to psych himself up for their date tonight. He was excited. He was ecstatic. After she told him she loved him for who he was, for all that he’d done, he fell almost impossibly deeper in love with her. She was everything he ever dreamed of and more. They had almost everything in common. She was just perfect.

Maybe she was too perfect.

No, she was Ed’s. They were made for each other. He quashed any inklings of doubt regarding Isabella. It was only jitters brought on by a new relationship. And as new a couple as they were, it was like they’d known each other since birth. He didn’t know any of the trivial details like her last name or her birthday or where she was from or her parent’s names or any hobbies of hers or what her friends were like or if she had any friends at all, but he didn’t need to. They were in love and that was enough. Oswald had called them strangers, but that wasn’t true. He’d never connected with anyone like he connected with Isabella. It had only been one day, 16 hours, and roughly 25 minutes since they had met, and yet it felt like a lifetime had passed. 

Then again, perhaps he was jumping the gun a little. It would definitely be best for him and Isabella to get to know each other better. Theirs had to be one of the rare cases of real love at first sight, but there was much to learn, much to discuss. He worked with Kristen for months, adored her from afar the whole time, but by the end of it, he didn’t know her beyond what limited information he gathered himself through casual research. Honestly, if he hadn’t murdered her, their relationship would’ve likely been doomed anyway. But how could he have really known that? Well, she wasn’t a complete waste of time, though. Without her, Ed would still be the nervous mess he once was. He wouldn’t be the man he was today.

Despite this, despite being over Kristen, her memory is still so fresh in his mind. She wasn’t his first girlfriend or his first victim, but she was by far one of the most significant things to happen to him in his life. Killing her was the closest he’d probably ever experienced to a high. All of his senses were heightened. He took in everything. That encroaching darkness, that beast residing within. The creature he repressed for many long years, finally crawled from it’s resting place, running through his veins, splintering his bones, and stopping in his hands. The monster wrapped itself around her throat with practice and experience. Her gorgeous eyes, wide in terror, flitted all about as it feasted upon her dwindling moments. Her legs stopped kicking when the creature retreated. She slipped from his grasp and to the ground. Though he panicked, though he cried, though he begged for her to breathe, he couldn’t deny the rapid beating of his heart when hers had ceased.

Ed’s mouth suddenly went dry. A nagging voice in the back of his head was whispering tauntingly to him. Only now did he listen.

_ What if you do that to Isabella? _

He would never. He could never.

_ You said that about Kristen too. _

That was the past. Ed was in control.

_ You will hurt her. You’re going to hurt her because you can’t stop yourself. _

“I will not,” Ed hissed aloud. His hand clenched into a fist.

_ You’re unstable, Eddie. She’s going to end up with her body parts scattered in a shallow grave just like Kristen because that is who you are. You can’t resist it. You are weak. _

“ _ No _ ,” he said louder to the silence around him.

_ You can’t even protect her from yourself. You will never know real love. You’re just going to slaughter everyone close to you until you have no one left. I’m sure Oswald is next. You’re a homicidal lunatic. A lost cause. A— _

Ed suddenly found himself on his feet. Some folders had been thrown from his desk and papers littered the floor. It felt as though his shirt collar was strangling him. He inhaled and exhaled deeply in an effort to ground himself somewhat. He just couldn’t stop the grim train of thought he had already set in motion. What if he hurts Isabella? He dropped to his knees to pick up the mess of paper. He never intended to kill Kristen, so how can he be sure he won’t kill Isabella? He was nearly sick from ruminating about it. He hurt Kristen because she panicked when he informed her of Officer Dougherty’s fate. And what else was he supposed to do? Let her get away and report him to the authorities? Isabella, on the other hand, accepted him, murderous tendencies and all. She was his second chance at normalcy. Could he even be normal? Did he want to be normal?

Again, Oswald came to mind. He hardly worried like this over Oswald. He accepted Ed too, both sharing the same fondness for homicide. Ed didn’t have to present some foolish facade to Oswald. He could really be himself when they were together. He had never been concerned with hurting Oswald because he hadn’t dared to even consider it. He cared about him more than anything. Not to mention the fact that poor paranoid Oswald was always armed to the teeth. He had knives and guns and weapons of all sorts hidden in the most curious places, so if Ed was contemplating to commit some act of violence against his friend, he would definitely be deterred by this. But he would never lay a harmful hand on the most important person in his life. 

Most important besides Isabella, that is.

Ed stood, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He still had six hours until his date. He wasn’t as enthusiastic about it as he was before. He flopped down in his chair. His guts twisted into a horrible knot.

_ Dear, oh dear. Whatever shall we do? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow it's my first multi-chapter fic hell yeah


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ed's life is falling apart in record time

Once early afternoon bled into late evening, Ed had grown from nervous to panicked and now, he was graduating to a full-blown internal meltdown. He had only half an hour until he was supposed to join Isabella for dinner. He changed his shirt, his jacket, his pants, his tie, his shoes again and again. Everything felt too tight, too ill-fitting. It was like his own skin was too small on him. Eventually, upon realizing how little time he had left before he had to leave, he gave up and simply settled for whatever was on his back. His hands were already awfully clammy and his fingers slipped on the buttons of his blazer. He sized himself up in the large mirror before him. His hair was pushed back neatly and his suit gave a deep green shimmer in the dim light of his bedroom. He looked very put together, handsome even, but he hadn’t felt quite so abysmal since he was released from Arkham. He had wasted his whole day, consumed by horrific thoughts. He couldn’t rid himself of the image of his hands about Isabella’s slender neck, choking the life out of her. He wanted to call her and cancel for her own safety, for his own sanity, but he knew he couldn’t. It was far too late. She was expecting him. And Ed doubted she would understand his fears. Unfortunately, she loved him just that much.

He had to force himself out of the manor. When he stepped outside, a chill ran up his spine. He was already missing the comforting warmth he’d only just left behind. The heavy door closing behind him acted as both a physical and metaphorical barrier, separating him from the security he was now abandoning. He was riddled with anxiety. He hurried to his car to get out of the frigid wind and to discourage himself from turning right back around and getting in bed to sulk. Pulling his seatbelt over him, he put his keys in the ignition and started his trek down the long driveway.

He steadily approached the city’s heart, getting closer and closer to Isabella’s apartment. With every meter traveled, his heart sank lower and lower in his chest. He was sure he was going to throw up. This wasn’t the same giddy nerves he felt when they first met. Ed trembled, overcome with sickening fright. He turned up the radio as loud as he could stand it. He hoped it would drown out the wailing voices in his head, crying out  _ monster you’re a monster a miserable wretch you’re going to hurt her she’s as good as dead she’s dead she’s dead dead dead _ —

Another car honked their horn and Ed realized he had run a red light. He hadn’t been paying any mind to the world around him, too wrapped up in his own ghastly musings. The startling noise certainly brought him to attention. He situated himself and drew a few deep breaths. He refused to allow himself to become distrait again. He fixed his stare on the road. Occasionally, his eye would wander to the brilliant neon signs above doors or in shop windows. They illuminated the streets with bright reds and greens. It almost looked like Christmas. The thought made Ed chuckle hoarsely. His short few seconds of laughter were abruptly ended when he saw Isabella’s apartment building in his view. He still had time to redirect his route, go back home, but he drove on. No matter how large the yawning void of dread grew within him, he drove on.

He sat in his parked car outside of the door for a while. She was no doubt excitedly anticipating his arrival. She probably looked beautiful. She always did. Her silken blond hair was likely carefully put up, as per usual. Ed wondered what they were going to have for dinner, although he was anything but hungry. He could cook for her instead, tell her he already ate or he was coming down with a virus or something. Everything would be fine. She would have supper, they would chat and laugh, then Ed would kiss her goodnight and take his leave. Nothing was going to happen. He used this small bout of confidence to motivate himself out of his car and all the way to Isabella’s front door. He knocked, quickly making sure he didn’t look a mess. When she answered him, Ed didn’t even notice her modest, knee-length skirt, nor her sweet olive sweater with the embroidered collar, nor the glowing smile on her face. It was her hair.

Her  _ red  _ hair.

If he thought she looked like Kristen before.

“Hi!” she greeted him eagerly.

“Y-You… your…” Ed couldn’t find the words to articulate his shock. The blood had completely drained from his face. She was completely identical to Kristen. She was even wearing her glasses.

“My hair? Do you like it? I just thought it was time for a change,” she grinned. She seemed so innocent and unaware, but Ed swore he saw a knowing glimmer in her eyes.

“No—”

“Come in, it’s so chilly out there. I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold,” she took Ed’s hand and pulled him in. Ed numbly followed. His sureness in the night’s success plummeted. Isabella was talking to him, but he didn’t hear a word. He was concentrated on keeping himself from fainting.

“Edward?”

“Huh?”

“My goodness, are you listening to me?” Isabella laughed lightly.

“What… why— why do you— why do you look like—?” Ed gasped out in an accusatory whisper. He struggled to speak. Suffocating terror flooded through him. Sweat had begun to bead on his forehead.

“Edward, are you okay? You don’t look well.” She was still holding his hand. Ed pulled back like he had been burned by her touch.

“Why are you dressed like her?!” Ed barked. “Why are you dressed like Kristen? You know what I did. You know what I did to her. How did you—“

Her joyous expression quickly faded.

“You thought I was her when we first met,” her tone was laced with a sad sort of pity. “I know you could never forget her. You’re still scared. This is the only way you can conquer your fear and I can take her place in your heart,” she stepped closer to him, reaching out. Ed frantically stumbled back.

“Oh God, I have to go—”

“Edward, you need to move on. She left you. I’m not her. You aren’t going to lose me. I’m yours,” she grabbed his wrists. Ed shook his head frantically.

“No,  _ please no. _ ” She ignored his pleading and lifted his limp hands to her throat. Ed choked.

“Please, please stop. I love you. I don’t care about her anymore. Don’t do this”. Suddenly, he was pathetic, awkward Edward Nygma again. He was back in his old apartment, crouched over his girlfriend, long fingers constricting her windpipe. He was being forced to relive one of the most pivotal and traumatic experiences of his life. It was like he had been paralyzed, limbs heavy and immobile. Isabella held his grasp in place, glaring at him challengingly. When he came to his senses, he jerked away from her and pushed her off. Isabella nearly fell over but wasted no time in catching herself. Before Ed could apologize, she reared back and slapped him across the face.

It didn’t even hurt, not physically anyway, but Ed still felt the sting of brimming tears. This wasn’t right. Ed had to get out of there. He made a break for the door.

“Where are you going?!” she yelled after him. Ed didn’t look back, didn’t say another word. He ran all the way back to his vehicle and sped off into the night. 

It was raining now. His pulse thrummed in his ears. His mind was racing and he couldn’t focus on a single thing. Soon, he pulled over, down a small side road, when he believed he had driven a safe distance. Dim, pink light from a nearby establishment shone through his car windows. He removed his glasses and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t stop shivering. He didn’t know what to do. He loved Isabella so much, but he just couldn’t do what she was asking of him. His cheek stung where she had hit him. If the nightmare that was his childhood had taught him anything, he knew you weren’t supposed to lay a hand on your loved ones. All of this was wrong. He needed to go somewhere to clear his head. He couldn’t go home. Oswald was probably there and he didn’t want to burden his friend with his problems. He knew Oswald would be worried sick over him, not to mention the fact that the current condition of his and Oswald’s relationship was also highly complicated and bemusing. He obviously couldn’t go back to Isabella. But where else could he go?

His attention turned to the building he was parked next to. It was hard to read the neon signage through the rain. He squinted to make out the name  _ Stocking & Rose. _ He wasn’t familiar with the place, but he could see silhouettes of patrons and staff through a tinted pain of glass. For the first time that day, something worked out in his favour: he was right in front of a bar.

It was far from lavish or luxurious, but it was really trying to look like it was. It was poorly lit, likely to disguise the chipping paint on the walls. Most of those in attendance were disinterested young people sporting an odd combination of  _ haute couture _ and thrift store finds. They were lounging in booths, draped over leather upholstery as dramatically as possible. Upon a small stage at the far end of the room, someone was singing. It was a familiar song. Oswald definitely played it around the house. Something pretty and mournful by Amy Winehouse, very fitting for the moment. Ed immediately found himself a seat at the bar and ordered something strong. The bartender nodded and silently poured up a small glass of amber liquid, sliding it across the bar to Ed. The taste of it was absolutely vile, but he necked it nonetheless and ordered another, then another, and then a few more after that.

When Ed fell off of his stool, the bartender began offering him water instead. She could have been giving him gasoline and he likely would have drunk it anyway. The live music had long since ended. Many of the other occupants had cleared out. All coherent thought abandoned him and he lay slumped over the bartop. He was close to falling asleep.

“Rough night?”

He lifted his head. It was the singer. Now that they were up close, though his vision was swimming, he could at least piece together a vague idea of their appearance. Short hair, petite, androgynous, early-twenties. They carried a faux fur coat and wore a skimpy satin dress that would be much more appropriate in the bedroom than in public. A jeweled choker about their neck shimmered through the dark.

“Uh-huh,” Ed mumbled.

“I saw you come in, thought you were cute, but you’re clearly in no shape for a hook-up,” they said, hopping on the seat next to Ed’s. Ed raised an eyebrow at their frankness.

“I-I have a girlfriend— actually, I might have a girlfriend. I’m not sure anymore.”

“Yikes, anything you wanna talk about?”

Ed was a fairly guarded man. He had enough difficulty discussing his feelings with those close to him. Under normal circumstances, he would never spill his guts to some random stranger who just clearly expressed an interest in sleeping with him. However, these were far from normal circumstances. He rarely allowed himself so much as a glass of wine, but there he was, three sheets to the wind and one drink away from blacking out. In an intoxicated daze, he decided to air out his sorrows.

He started the story right from the beginning. He skipped over Kristen’s unfortunate fate and kept most of the information vague, but still managed to piece the lengthy tale together. He talked of befriending someone who changed his life, his stint in Arkham, his new position at the side of his closest ally, and the Isabella dilemma. When he trailed off, the singer whistled.

“Wild. So, what are you going to do about your lady, or maybe ex-lady, I guess?” they cocked their head to the side curiously.

“I don’t know.” Ed sighed. “I love her. I really, really do, but I don’t know. A-And my friend, he recently confessed that he, um, he loved me.”

“Ooh, the drama,” they gave a mildly exaggerated gasp. “So, what? Do you love him back?”

Ed opened his mouth, then closed it. He and Oswald, they were best friends, closer than close, right? He loved Oswald, but he didn’t love him  _ that _ way, right? He asked himself these questions and more over and over, especially within the last 24 hours. Before Oswald’s confession, he said he would’ve done anything for him. He would still do anything for him. Oswald is awe-inspiring, powerful, beautiful. He understood Ed. No one cared for Ed like Oswald did and he cared for Oswald just the same. He...

He loved him just the same. 

_ Oh, god _ .

“Are you gonna puke?”

“I-I…” Ed stammered and swallowed. “I do… I love him. Oh, my god, I— oh, my god.” He received a gentle smack on the back from his companion.

“Well, that settles it then. You should go after him—“

“But my girlfriend!”

“She hit you. I think that relationship has run its course already, honey.”

Ed wanted to protest, but there was nothing he could say. They were absolutely correct, it couldn’t be denied, no matter how much Ed wanted to deny it.

“I hate this,” he whined.

“Hey, it’s up to you in the end. Do what makes you happy, not what makes someone else happy.”

This didn’t help. Ed wholly believed staying with Isabella would make him happy. Maybe not right then— it was only expected they would hit a rough patch every now and again, as all couples did— but in the long run. She was supposed to be the anchor he needed. She was supposed to give him the perfect ending he desired. She was supposed to give him the finality, the closure he so desperately craved. But then what was she beyond that? After all the loose ends have been tied, where would that leave them?

She was just an extension of Kristen. A part of a ceaseless loop Ed couldn’t stop. If he didn’t break free of it now, would he ever?

Ed made a frustrated noise, causing the singer to giggle.

“You okay?”

“No.”

“Y’know, this actually reminds me of something.”

Then the stranger began a story of their own. Something about some friend of theirs, a couple, who fought a lot. Ed wasn’t fully present, but they had a nice voice to doze off to. He didn’t wake up until he was being hoisted up and dragged out of the bar by security. It was closing time.

“I’m awake,” his speech was very garbled. The bouncer dropped him on the sidewalk, Ed just barely landing steadily on his feet. It was freezing, but the rain had mostly let up. He heard the swift clacking of heels over the pavement.

“Hey, do you need a ride?” 

Ed turned back to the singer.

“My car’s right there.”

“You aren’t driving anywhere.”

“No, no, I won’t. I promise.”

“Seriously, I can give you a ride.”

“You really don’t have to. Go home, I’ll be fine. I’ll just call a cab,” Ed insisted. They intended to resist but relented instead. After all, they didn’t know Ed and Ed didn’t know them. Neither was responsible for the other. Most likely, this would be their first and last meeting.

“Okay, fine. Goodnight, darling, and good luck with your romantic problems. Maybe come looking for me if things don’t work out,” they pecked Ed’s cheek and trotted off in the direction of a shiny black car that had only just pulled up. Ed was surprised to hear them greet the driver as ‘daddy’, but since he was still in a rather unperceptive state, he came to the conclusion that there was no harm in maintaining a strong relationship with one’s father.

Ed got into his car and took out his phone. He really was going to call himself a cab, but he was unfortunately sidetracked by a slew of missed calls and messages from Isabella. She must have called close to a dozen times. His stomach twisted. Against his better judgement, he read a few of the texts she sent.

_ I love you Ed please come back  _

_ how could you do this to me _

_ I need you _

_ I’ll die without you _

Many more followed in a similar vein, save for a few veiled threats thrown into the mix.

_ I will find you no matter where you go _

_ You will never get rid of me _

_ You are mine forever _

His heart gave a painful twinge. Ed ached to phone her back, beg for forgiveness, tell her he needed her too. He threw his phone onto the passenger seat before the urge became too strong to combat. He didn’t need her. She was manipulating him. He couldn’t give in, no matter what. He leaned back, breathing slow, pouring all of his concentration into not vomiting.

Ed never intended to fall asleep there. The droning sounds of the city outside his car were like a lullaby to his inebriated senses. He listened to the raindrops on the roof, the odd passing vehicle, and the wail of sirens in the distance. The raucous ramblings of his troubled mind even seemed to quiet down. Before he knew it, he had dozed off. He would definitely be sore in the morning, what with being cramped in such a small car. He hadn’t a dream at all for the whole night, nor did he toss or turn. A restful slumber was so rare for him. Upon awakening, he would recall all that had happened and figure out what he had to do moving forward. Tomorrow, he would have the answers to everything. Tomorrow, for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took me forever to post I just,, hate ed so much it physically stopped me from writing this very ed-centric chapter. he's such an irredeemable shitlord in the show. this is an au where ed is not the absolute worst.
> 
> (also the bar singer is 100% my oc jojo bc gotham could really use a chaotic neutral slut to help those messy bitches through their problems)

**Author's Note:**

> any feedback is appreciated!


End file.
